


Not your modern family

by HyFrLarry1224, WinchesterandAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accelerated Aging, Baby Jack - Freeform, Dad Cas, Dad Dean, Developing Relationship, Jack is born at around 5 months old, M/M, Nephilim, Our boys are clueless, Power Imbalance, Uncle Sam, developing plot, we were ROBBED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29104089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyFrLarry1224/pseuds/HyFrLarry1224, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterandAngel/pseuds/WinchesterandAngel
Summary: We were ROBBED of the experience of TFW raising Baby Jack... so, we decided to correct the wrongs and bring you... this. A smidge of a rewrite, if you will.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	1. The nephilim, yes. Jack

**Author's Note:**

> As always, BIG thank you to my wonderful co-author/co-collaborator for bringing the ideas to the table and entertaining me enough to allow me to mess it up as much as I can. Lmao. Court, you carried me. Us. This story. It wouldn't exist without your beautiful mind.

The moon is full and looming, crested atop the hill to brush the surrounding trees and thicket with its pale white-wash glow. A signal of the impending arrival of the nephilim, given that not even half an hour ago the moon was a simple crescent; cusped by darkness, shining with half the power, half the light. Castiel drops to his knees at the shoreline, doubling over to bury his shaking fingers in the sand chilled by the lapping water, head pounding and the oddest sensation of fullness blooming into his chest and pressing outwards until his rib cage  _ aches.  _

“It’ll be soon,” Cas grunts, the intention of keeping his voice steady not quite reaching his rabbiting heart because it comes out short, gasped, quivering by the pain influencing him an inch closer to the water. Towards the sanctity he knew to find enveloped in the waters' arms, the world above him muted and still.

Dean, the simple man, perfect by nobody’s definition but certainly redefining the definition in Cas’ eyes, senses the problem before it’s even been addressed, the fear hidden in Cas’ carefully structured sentence, and his hand finds the angel's shoulder. Grasping him; holding him in place, keeping him from falling forward into the endless abyss of water and sand. 

“What’s wrong?” It’s asked in an equally quiet voice as Castiel’s, knocked down a few notches from his usual even timber and it feels like sand on Cas’ spritzing brain. 

He closes his eyes against the assault, against the shutter wracking body and increasing the ache in the center of his chest, and leans back into the comfort of Dean’s presence. His back pressed firmly against Dean’s legs, knees to shoulders, and his head tips back to rest against his thigh. 

“I-“ he frowned, head tilting until his cheek is cushioned by Dean’s thigh, and stares out at the trees swaying as a soft breeze picks up. It would be any time now. No time before.. “The nephilim,” Cas responds, only now realizing how breathy his voice has become. Hitched and raspy. “He-  _ it’s  _ drawing power from me. I-I can feel it. He’s coming.” 

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment, hand still on Castiel’s shoulder, eyes on the reflective lake. Behind them, in the comfort of the cabin, Sam is in a similar position; hand on the small of Kelly’s back, both pacing back and forth, chasing away the pain tensing her stomach as she’s hit with contraction after contraction. 

_ “I’ll be fine,”  _ she insists, weakly reassuring Sam even as her death-grip on his bicep tightens. They pass the nursery on their trek through the house, zig-zagging worn patterns into the hardwood flooring, and her first tear falls.  _ “Promise me he’ll be taken care of?”  _

It was something he had no right to promise- he was smart enough to  _ know  _ better given the dangers that still looms, the threat that tomorrow may bring, and yet;  _ “Yeah, Kelly, I promise.”  _

“What does that mean, Cas? He- how is it drawing power from you?” Dumb, so dumb, so  _ clueless _ to how to world works, to how the angels work, Dean sounds scared. Rightfully so. 

He doesn’t understand the calling of the nephilim, how Cas’ diminishing grace was responding to the pull, fueling the demand of power, of  _ more more more.  _ He doesn’t understand because Cas is  _ scared  _ to tell him. Explain what it means, on how he can feel his insides unthreading, his heart ripping apart. Bursting at the seams. 

Inside the cabin, Kelly keels over with a groan as another contraction hits her. Sam wraps an arm around her back and holds her steady as she breathes through it, remembering what she learned in her doula class with Castiel three weeks ago.

Almost in sync, Cas yells out with eyes wide. His fingers grip into the sand of the beach and hold the grains hard in his palm. He felt Dean’s hands cup his face from above in an attempt to comfort him or to ground him and let him know he was still there for him. No matter what. A soft blue haze pierces through Cas’ already sky blue eyes as his grace diminishes more by the second from the being coming to be in the house behind them. 

Sam helps Kelly lie down on the bed in the upstairs bedroom across the hallway from the nursery. Sweat cakes her forehead as she continues her breathing exercises. Sam makes sures she is comfortable before taking his cellphone out of his pocket and dialing. As it rings, he sits on the edge of the bed next to Kelly and holds her hand.

Dean’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He hesitantly takes one hand off of Cas to answer it. “Sam?”

“Dean, things are happening up here. I may need a hand!”

“Well, things are happening out here too Sam. Cas is a little indisposed at the moment.” Dean glances down at the angel who is still leaned up against Dean but his eyes are now closed. The sight pulled at Dean’s heart. 

“What do you me-” Sam started but was cut off by Kelly squeezing his hand so tightly that he gasped. Her eyes squeezed shut as she yelled out during another contraction. Castiel’s synchronized yell echoed through the phone. “Dean, what is happening?!”

“The nephilim is draining Cas’ grace! I don’t know what to do man!” Dean’s voice was scared and distressed. Sam’s never heard such panic in his older brother’s voice and it hit him deep in his gut. The bedroom window faces out towards where he would be standing with Cas on the beach, but with Kelly’s death grip on his hand he couldn’t get up to see for himself what was happening outside.

“ _ Oh god _ …”

Sam heads whipped towards Kelly’s voice. She was sitting up and Sam watched as the veins in her neck glowed with a yellow light. The light trailed up her neck and cheeks and into her eyes that instantly turned them gold and bright. Her face softened, a smile creeped over her lips as she whispered.

“ _ I love you _ …”

An explosion of light erupted from her and the blast threw Sam back against the far wall of the room, knocking him out instantly.

Dean watched in horror as blue light poured out of Cas’ eyes and mouth. He wasn’t screaming anymore as it was replaced with an ear piercing ringing that made Dean stumble back from him and cover his ears. It was the same ringing as when Cas was trying to communicate with Dean after rescuing him from hell and it was just as deafening. Dean fell to his knees and he watched as the blue enveloped Cas and blasted out, knocking Dean back against a tree.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Dean?... Dean...wake up.”

Dean blinked his eyes open. His vision was blurred and as it cleared, black shaggy hair sharpened up. 

“Cas?” he rasped.

“Come on, get up.”

He felt his hand grabbed and he was pulled up to a sitting position which made his head instantly throb. He rubbed at his eyes and brought his vision back to him. Cas sat there beside him on the grass. Dean noticed that he was maybe 25 feet away from where they were standing on the beach before. Was he thrown that far? Jeez…

“Cas...what happened?” He blinked through the black stars dotting his vision, attempting to find Castiel’s eyes but the angel was stubbornly refusing to make eye contact, chin pointed down towards his chest, eyes fixed on the blade of grass twirling between his fingers. He wasn’t telling Dean something. “Cas?” he prompted again, choosing to ignore the sharp pang in his back.

“The nephilim...it is here.” said the angel, the hunch of his shoulders depicting a sorrow Dean was all too familiar with. “My grace though...it's gone.”

“Gone?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Did he take it all?

“Seems so…” Castiel replied, and Dean could sense it, hear the force of casualness tugging at the edge of Cas’ words. He sounded exhausted and resigned, yet was attempting to put on a front for Dean’s sake. 

Dean sat there, unaware of what to do- of what he  _ could  _ do to make Cas feel better. His mind was reeling over the fact that Cas is human again after only getting his mojo back not that long ago. And now it’s gone. Again. It seems the stubborn ass just can’t catch a break.

Then Dean’s head snapped towards Cas, eyes wide with realization dawning on him when he remembered  _ why  _ they were here and  _ how  _ Cas’ powers were initially robbed. “Sam!”

They were on their feet before Dean even fully completed the syllable, his footsteps a bit more stumbled than the former angel’s, who seemed to be unaffected by the draining of his magic juice despite Dean being fairly certain he watched him disappear in a ball of light- he’d have to ask him to confirm. 

“Jesus, Cas, could you maybe help me here?” Dean called out from a few paces behind him, initially intending it as a joke even if his lower back  _ was  _ aching and he’s also pretty sure he pulled a muscle or two in his thigh. 

Cas was at his side instantly and silently wrapped his arm around the small of his back. Dean placed his arm around Cas’ shoulders and they limped to the house, shuffling up the porch stairs and through the door.

The lights within the cabin were flickering, creating an ominous atmosphere, spiking their adrenaline as Cas reached within the folds of his trench coat and produced an angel blade, the sharp tip glinting dangerously in the jaded lighting. He left Dean’s side before the hunter was fully ready to support his own weight, and Dean canted towards the stairs before making a wobbly sharp turn and jarring himself towards the direction Cas disappeared down. 

He didn’t know what to expect; what awaited him the moment he stepped over that threshold and into the modestly decorated nursery Kelly intended to raise her son in- but the sight before him certainly wasn’t it. Castiel was already in the room, Angel blade reflecting the moonlight parsing through the split curtains, sending sharp slices of the pale glow across the bed with charred sheets and smoldering headboard. 

It looked as if the bed had survived a house fire, yet the woman on the mattress looked untouched by the chaos around her. Her brown, caramel accented hair was a halo around her head- her clammy skin still slick with a fine sheen of sweat, but her deflated body looked.. Unlike anything Dean has ever seen. There was an ethereal glow to her skin, otherworldly at where cusps of the faint blue still bled from her eyes and parted lips. 

She looked at peace. Dead, but peaceful. 

“What the hell happened?” Dean barked, stomach twisting itself in knots. He’s dealt with death before. Dead bodies, dead family members- the whole shebang. But he’s never witnessed something like  _ this.  _ “What- _ Who  _ did this, Cas?”

The, now former angel, sheathed his blade when there was decidedly no obvious threat and cautiously approached the bed. “The nephilim,” Cas whispered in a hushed voice, solemn and desolate. He lifted a gentle hand and carefully lowered Kelly’s eyelids, knowing it made absolutely no difference to her but also aware it was a human costume that translated respect. “We knew she wouldn’t survive,” he went on to say, arguing a point they’ve run themselves sick over, “Nephilims.. They require strength and  _ power.  _ A lot of it, it seems.”

A vague gesture over his body was meant to translate the self-deprecating humor in the situation. 

“So, he zaps your mojo and kills Kelly?” Dean scoffs and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, a chunk of wood falling to his shoulder. “Yeah, Cas, sounds like a real good guy. Remind me again  _ why  _ we don’t just gank his ass and get it over with?”

Suddenly, a groan comes from the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Sams head pops up from behind the mattress, his hand cupping his temple. “Dean?”

Dean, as quickly as he can on his aching leg, zips around the end of the bed to his brother. “Hey Sammy, you good?” he places a hand on his shoulder.

The younger brother glances up at him, “I think so….what ha- oh no…” he catches sight of Kelly and deflates. The woman that they tried so hard to protect for so long was gone just like that. She never asked for this, she wanted no part of it at the beginning. They failed her, and it hit him deep to his core.

“Dean…”

Both brothers looked towards where Cas’ voice came from in the far corner of the room opposite them. He was bent over looking at something on the floor. There was a long beat of silence before Dean spoke up, “What is it Cas?”

The former angel straightened back up and turned around. In his arms was...a baby?

The hunters gazed in awe as Castiel, a soldier of heaven, cradled a small, naked, wispy blonde haired infant in his arms. He paid no attention to them, his blue eyes were drawn to the child’s own blue eyes and they stared at each other. Every couple seconds the baby would squeak or coo at him and flop one of his little arms out, clenching and releasing his fingers in and out of a fist.

Sam stood up and him and Dean slowly stepped closer to Cas and the child, hesitant and a little terrified. “Is…” Dean swallowed, “Is that the…”

“The nephilim, yes. Jack.”

Sam came up and stood behind Dean, looking over his shoulder at the bundle in Cas’s arms. “Jack?”

“Kelly chose the name not too long ago.” He replies, his eyes still locked on the child. He remembers the day where Kelly told him that.

Dean tried not to associate the baby with his father, with the destruction brought on by his existence, but with the very proof lying mere feet away from them with blue essence still seeping from her body, he couldn’t. “So now we’re naming it?” Dean asked, trying to seem unfazed but his voice was strained, hand inching behind his back to wrap around the gun tucked safely in his waistband. 

“What do you mean?” Sam scoffed, pure delight on his face as he rounded Dean and moved to approach Cas and the baby. “Of course we-”

“Don’t, Sammy!” Dean quickly grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him back, shielding the giant with his own body as he drew his gun and made it abundantly clear his intentions as he lifted it- not aimed at anything, but letting it’s appearance be known. “Stay the hell away from it. Cas, you need to put it down. Now.” 

His heart was strangling him, the carefully-concealed fear slowly unraveling as he regarded his unmoving best friend with wide eyes. The look passed between the two was heavy with history, unspoken emotions and  _ trust.  _

_ Do you trust me?  _ Cas’ eyes asked, lips dipped as if to whisper unheard words in Jack’s ears. 

Dean _ wanted _ to say yes, to cave to the immediate thrum of his body that was attempting to push him closer to the Angel, to the comfort of his body warmth, but then the baby reached a stubby-fingered hand out to grip at Castiel’s arm and fear seized Dean’s heart, breaking the moment. 

His gun was lifted with an unsteady hand, and  _ this _ time it found its intended target. “It’s dangerous. Giving it a name like it’s some goddamn pet doesn’t change  _ what  _ it is or who his father is.”

Without a second's hesitation, Castiel’s body was turning- angling his shoulder towards Dean with the baby completely shielded from his field of view. “Lower the weapon, Dean. I do not want to hurt you but I  _ will.”  _

To punctuate Cas’ warning, Jack gave a shrill shriek and the flickering light over-head popped and shattered, leaving them in complete darkness as sparks rained down on them and licked across the visible patches of Dean’s skin in jolting shocks. 

“You’re choosing  _ it,  _ Cas? The baby who just killed it’s own mother?” Dean felt betrayed, fucking  _ gutted  _ over Castiel’s silent decision. 

“Dean, it’s just a baby.” Sam pointed out, adjusting his weight from foot to foot as his fought the urge to move towards Cas, towards the baby- to shield it and protect it from his brother with his promise to Kelly still weighing heavily on his heart. But he knew Dean couldn’t handle it, the insinuation of Sam choosing something else  _ over _ him. 

“It’s the son of Lucifer, Sam! Remember, Lucifer? The lord of darkness that tortured you in hell and sent you to the looney bin?” Dean snapped back, seemingly forgetting gun safety 101 as he waved the gun around in the air, animated hand gestures doing little to appease the sudden rampage of emotions budding in his chest. 

“Yes, I know. But remember what Kelly said? She said that he would be good. That he would bring peace on earth. Okay, we may not have known Kelly for long, or even as well as Cas knew her but-”

Dean was already shaking his head. “No, Sam. This kid is a monster, and you know what we do with monsters. This thing ain’t leaving this house if I can help it.” Dean cocked the gun. “Cas, put it down.”

Cas did nothing. He just stood there, holding Jack close to his chest and stared Dean down.

“Cas.” Dean spoke with gritted teeth. “Put the damn thing down or I’ll shoot in in your arms.”

The former angel stood his ground. He glared deep into Dean’s soul.

“Fine, have it your way.” Dean stepped back and raised the gun, pointing it directly at the unlinking child. Sam sprung into action.

“DON’T!” He launched for Dean’s hand and just as he pulled the trigger, the gun flew out of his hand and smashed through the window, plummeting to the ground outside. The round that was shot pierced through the wooden ceiling of the room.

All three men froze, unsure of what just happened. “What the hell?” Dean cursed.

Castiel turned to face the hunters and they saw Jack with his little hand out and eyes closed. The little arm then dropped and he fell asleep.

Sam stared in shock, “Did he just do that?”

Dean glanced at his empty hand where his gun once was, then to Cas. “How the hell…?”

“The child is coming back to the bunker with us.” Cas declared. 

“And then what?” Dean spat, shaking off the shock of what just happened even with residual gunpowder still hanging heavy in the air, burning his twitching nose. “We play pretend? Raise it to be a good little choir-boy and act like he can’t rip guns out of people's hands with his mind and burn people from the inside out? Come on, Cas, be realistic,” 

Even as he spoke, even as he worked himself up- defending his case of what was right or wrong, he could feel his conviction slipping. Slithering through the floorboards to melt into the damp earth, leaving him floundering for an explanation, an honest to god reason as to why he was against the damn thing two seconds ago and now actually considering taking it home. 

Cas seemed to sense it, too, the hesitation in Dean’s poster because with a smirk and a quick readjustment of Jack, resulting in the baby’s head sliding more firmly onto the former Angel’s shoulder with his forehead tucked tight beneath his chin, he was brushing past both hunters. 

“I don’t expect you to be pleasant about this, Dean, and I respect your resistance but pull a gun on him again and I  _ will _ break your legs.” Cas said, voice carrying behind him and echoing within the nursery as he disappeared through the open door and down the hallway. 


	2. I'm not pro anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is secretly a big ol' softie.

Walking into this situation blindly probably wasn’t something they should have done. It was dumb- dumber than dumb. Possibly the  _ stupidest  _ thing they’ve  _ ever _ done and they’ve done some pretty stupid shit. But there they were, three grown men standing over a screaming baby- red faced with blotchy cheeks and tear scratched eyes, a scavenged diaper ridiculously too small for his chubby waist hastily fastened in place. 

“Did you feed him?” Sam asks and Dean rolls his eyes, his earlier attempt at being unfazed by the screaming thrown out the window the second his brother made his entrance and he could argue his sudden interest and proximity to the baby was to make sure Sammy didn’t get hurt, but… where would that get him? 

“Angels don’t eat!” Cas argued, smoothing a hand down Jack’s torso which just seemed to further ruffle his feathers because the screaming intensified. Then he seems to catch his failed judgment because in a quieter voice, he mutters- “I don’t know what to feed him.” 

Dean snorts and pushes away from the bed, eyes doing the once-over of the naked room with blinding white walls and hazardously pieced together make-shift crib which was really just a normal bed with mountains of pillows surrounding the edge to create a border. 

“Real smart there, Cas. Let’s take a baby home when we don’t actually  _ have _ anything to take care of the damn thing.” Dean pokes at the door with his shoe, making it swing on whining hinges, and turns to face the frustrated duo now glaring at him. “Hey,” he lifts his hands in mock surrender, “I’ve been against this since before he even arrived. Don’t act shocked when I remind you both what dumbasses you are.” 

“Dean, if you’re not gonna help then you can take your negative ass somewhere-” Sam started to argue but was cut off by Dean groaning in frustration.

“Alright, alright, Samantha. Don’t get your panties in a knot. “ he rolled his eyes and stepped back into the room. “If I remember anything from raising your chubby ass, “ he makes a quick gesture to Sam. “and when I watched Lisa’s niece a couple times, they like…” he trailed off when he grabbed a flannel out of his dresser. He lifted Jack up and out of the  _ ‘crib’  _ and placed him down on the laid out shirt. He then started to wrap the flannel around him, making sure his arms and legs were tucked in and snug in the flannel. Once he tied the arms of the shirt around Jack’s belly, Jack seemed to quiet down and start to drift off.

Silence engulfed the room as the three men stood there, staring down at the plaid covered burrito of a baby just....flabbergasted that it worked.

Dean picked Jack up and held him horizontal in his arms. He lifted his gaze to be met with 4 eyes staring at him. “What?” 

“How did you do that?” Sam asked. 

“Some kids like to be wrapped tight. It’s like a comfort thing.” Dean shrugged. He started to subconsciously bounce his knees and slightly sway back and forth, rocking Jack. Upon seeing this, Sam started to chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Dude, you’re like a natural at this. Look at you,” he gestures with an open hand to Dean, who looks down at himself and instantly stops bouncing. “You’re enjoying this.”

“No I’m not.” the older hunter knots his brows in mock anger, “Shut up.” he puts Jack down, softly, in the crater of pillows and with an adjustment to his own flannel, he walks out of the room towards the kitchen.

Dean wasn’t usually the type to get self conscious over things, but having two grown men watch him succumb to his suppressed natural instincts was a new, all time low given he was cursing through his teeth over the things presence not even two hours ago. It was a comfort though, something he couldn’t deny, to have the warmth of the baby, the weight of his little body, cradled in his arms, expecting nothing from Dean but safety and peace. 

It didn’t change anything, Dean reminded himself vehemently as he, a little too aggressively, jerked the fridge door open to retrieve a bottle of beer. Their supply was running low, it seems. 

Swaddling the baby and rocking him was for pure necessity, he decided, given if he left it up to those two lumberjacks in there his budding headache would already be a piercing migraine. It was for his own mercy,  _ not  _ because he felt bad for the small creature. 

Uncapping the beer, Dean took a shallow sip, droplets of the cold beverage escaping the seam of his lip and dribbling to his chin which he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand.  _ So _ what if he was rocking the thing. He didn’t have to pick it up but he- Jack was,  _ the baby needed comfort.  _

Dean was a comforting guy. He could do a little one-on-one even if he despised the little ball of fluff. It’s not like he’d fuck the kid up, anyway. In his book, Jack was already screwed six ways till Sunday. Cas wasn’t exactly a paternal guy and Sam was too clumsy. If the kid was going to have a fighting chance, an alcoholic with severe anger issues was probably going to be his best bet. 

With the sudden decision, Dean was setting his bottle down on the counter with a clank and stomping down the hallway. “We do this, we do this right. Crib, properly fitting diapers, formula- the whole shebang.” He announced upon entering the room, startling both Cas and Sam who were hovering over the baby like two creeps. Dean lived with a bunch of girls. 

“I’m sorry?” Cas asked with furrowed brows, the edge of his trench coat caught on the corner of the bed which pulled it open to reveal the dark crease of his suit and how it  _ definitely  _ didn’t form perfectly to the curve of his waist. 

“I think what he’s saying is he’s pro-baby now, Cas,” Sam said with a grin, eyes roving over his brother's body in a knowing assessment that made Dean squirm. 

“I’m not pro anything,” Dean snapped, hovering in the doorway. “But if he’s going to be here, I’d like to save myself from having a migraine every day cause you two idiots don’t know how to take care of the damn thing.” 

Cas’ eyes lit up, and in a reaction that no way correlates with the look, Dean’s heartbeat picked up speed. “Can we go baby shopping? I’ve never been. I saw a small outfit in the hot-topical once but Claire wouldn’t have benefited from it. It was too small.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The bunker door screeched open and Dean, Sam, and Cas walked in and down the stairs. Cas and Sam had both their hands full carrying at least 3 bags in each hand. Sam also had a box of diapers tucked under his arm so he had to carefully step sideways down the metal stairs, highly depending on leaning back against the railing to keep his balance. Dean took up the rear carrying Jack in a carrier basket tucked in his bent elbow and a multi pocketed diaper bag hanging off his opposite shoulder. As he reached the bottom, he saw Sam roughly drop his bags onto the war room table and flop forward onto them, letting out a loud and exhausted groan. 

“My god, how much stuff does the tiniest person in the world need?!” he whines, his voice muffled by the stuffed bear his face is buried in

“If I remember correctly from the many child rearing books I read,” Cas spoke up out of breath, leaning against the table after putting his bags down on the floor. “This is just the essentials, and we’re gonna need to go get more every couple days.”

“You guys are such pussies!” Dean laughed. He put the carrier basket on the table and started to unclip the harness to take Jack out. He slipped his hands under Jack’s armpits and lifted him up, settling his bum on his forearm so he was sitting up against Dean, his belly to his chest. “You’ll take a vampire, ghoul, or a shifter anyday, but you’re almost flattened by a toddler.” he rolled his eyes.

Jack, fascinated by the strap of the diaper bag, began pulling relentlessly at it- squealing as Dean adjusted his weight a bit to get a better grip. “Toddlers require much more attention,” Cas huffed, straightening up to reveal the angry red marks lining his arms from the bags digging into his forearms. Dean watched as Cas smoothed his fingers over the angry red indentations. “Killing things is easy. Killing things requires minimal effort. Children, however, are exerting.” 

“Don’t quit on me now, we still got a crib to build,” Dean swallowed and lifted his gaze, realizing a bit belatedly that staring at your friends forearms wasn’t a particularly heterosexual thing to do. Patting Sam on the back, Dean scooped up a few of the bags his brother had set down on the table and began towards the direction of the nursery. “Speaking of, you get to fetch it from the trunk.” Dean hollered over his shoulder, followed by a- “and I swear to god, you slam her trunk and I’ll kick your ass.” 

Despite the admittedly newness of Jack, and the addition to their life’s, the weight of him cradled in Dean’s arm wasn’t entirely unpleasant and he found himself a little reluctant to set the baby down once they got in the nursery. Jack seemed to have the same mindset, his bottom lip jutting out the second his butt hit the soft padding of the mattress, Dean’s elbows drawn and tucked in to rest on the pillowed border. 

“Hey,” he hushed him gently, hearing the faint sound of Sam grumbling as he stomped up the stairs. Dean smirked. “It’s alright, little guy. I’m going to get you all set up- okay. Your very own crib. But I’m going to need you to cooperate with me, please? Your uncle Sam’s already going to be a big enough pain in my ass.” 

“If Sam is the uncle,” Castiel said from the doorway, startling Dean. “Then what does that make you? Me?” 

Not having sensed his presence, Dean jerked at the sound of his voice and immediately stood straight, eyes wide like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I uh,” he chuckled and scrubbed at the back of his neck, avoiding Cas’ gaze as he began to unpack the items stowed within the bags. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“I’m very quiet,” Cas admitted with pride, the shuffling of his shoes now heard as he walked further into the room. “Perhaps you’d like some help? I don’t know how to set anything up but I can entertain Jack? And be.. what is it called? Your ‘moral support.’” 

Grateful the topic of his and Cas’ designated role in Jack’s life was dropped, Dean allowed his shoulders to relax and sighed. “Yeah, yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.” 

Truth of the matter was, he didn’t know what the fuck he was to the baby. Or Cas. But calling Sam uncle just seemed so fitting, held a nice weight on his tongue, and Dean didn’t know what that meant for him but he also didn’t want to feed too much thought into it. 

Dean started by putting away the onesies and clothing they’d bought Jack, ignoring Cas’ insistent, “those need to be washed,” with an eye roll as he stuffed each drawer full before moving on to the next. By the time Sam came stumbling in, arms laden with a giant box that was impressively large, he’d already sorted through the number of bags he’d brought in and had everything put away. 

“We’ll need to get one of those bouncer things,” Dean said conversationally as he unsheathed the knife from his ankle and cut the tape at the top of the box. Sam slumped back against the wall, spent from a casual shopping trip, and Dean rolled his eyes. It seemed he’d be doing this solo, then. 

“What’s a bouncer?” Cas asked, pointer finger caught in Jack’s grasp as the baby jerked his arm back and forth, yelling at the single digit. 

Dean shrugged, remembering again that to these two bumbling idiots he was considered a professional, and pulled out the first row row of wood his hand brushed. “Something Lisa had at her house for her niece. It reclines back, and when the baby kicks it sort of bounces them, I guess? It also has a setting that vibrates it and plays lullabies or some shit. I don’t know. It seems convenient for when we need to keep him occupied.” 

“Yes, please, get that.” Sam spoke urgently, pointing and shaking his hand towards Dean. He was happy to hear that there was a tool that’ll keep Jack busy so he didn’t have to.

“Why, Sammy, scared of a little hard work?” Dean joked, which earned him a glare and a poorly thrown pillow aimed at his head which he easily dodged. 

Clucking his tongue, he chuckled and kneeled, dumping the rest of the crib contents on the floor. “Careful, Dean,” Sam chided as he walked out of the room, presumably to get the tool kit to help his brother, “Don’t want Cas popping a vessel when he sees one of your pro positions,” 

And he didn’t understand what his brother meant until he looked over his shoulder and saw that Cas, with red cheeks, was watching Dean. There, on his knees on the floor, surrounded by wood and boxes. Or more specifically, he was watching the curve of Dean’s ass. Which he happened to have the perfect view of. 

But as soon as it was acknowledged, as  _ soon  _ as Dean looked, Cas was quickly averting his gaze and returning his attention back to Jack with a quickness that looked far more suspicious than casual, but Dean would rather spend another decade in hell than  _ dare _ call him out on it. 

Fucking Sam. 

“Uh, Cas, I’m going to need some help,” he said instead, now hyper-aware of his movements as he settles back on his haunches and unfolds the pristine, white paper dotted with tiny black words. “You read German, right?”

____________________________________________________________________________

Wanting to catch some alone time, and hopefully peace and quiet, Dean retreated to the library under the false guise of finding said tranquility amongst the books. He hasn’t seen Sam touch a book in months, and Cas was too busy on baby duty to ever venture on this side of the bunker. 

He had his laptop, a beer, and a girthy sandwich stacked with too much meat and too little vegetables- but it was  _ his _ time and he’d be damned if he got conned into eating something healthy just to appease his brother. He was a  _ meat man,  _ even if Sam kept insisting that meant something entirely different than Dean assumed. 

And oh, Dean  _ knew.  _ Boy did he know. 

The crib was built, the nursery on its way to looking like a genuine baby room- save for a few items they still needed to purchase, but he was proud with what they accomplished in one day. Jack was full, had diapers that actually fit, clothes, and  _ actual _ blankets to be swaddled in. Hell, in Dean’s book, it was an A+ day with a nice, quiet evening. 

Until Sam had to go and ruin it. 

A newspaper was slapped onto Dean’s laptop, making him jump and spill a splash of beer on his jeans. “Shit!” he glared up at Sam, hands wiping fastidiously at his damp thigh. “The hell-”

“Read.” Sam simply puts, sitting across from Dean with a disgusted glance at his monstrous sandwich. No, “ _ I’m sorry,”  _ or offering for napkins, just blunt and straight to the point. Just like Dean raised him. 

Dean picks up the newspaper, the fresh printer smell still clinging to the pages despite their wrinkled state from being folded and unfolded, presumably by Sam’s nerd ass. “Top dog at this year’s Westminster dog show goes to-”

“Below that!” Sam groans.

The elder hunter smirks, chuffed that his little joke worked, and looked farther down the page. “ _ Non-seasonal weather hits the pacific northwest. Snow and sleet drench Seattle in the middle of July.  _ Huh…” Dean pouts. He just wanted  _ one _ evening. One god damn evening where he could eat a sandwich, drink a damn beer and maybe watch some porn in  _ goddamn peace.  _

“What do you think? Demons?” Sam pops an eyebrow, far too excited at the prospect of Demon’s terrorizing more people than was probably normal for a sane person. 

“Sounds like it to me. Lets go.” Dean clicks his tongue and closes the laptop, offering one last longing glance at his half eaten sandwich before he leaves it with a deep huff. 

Him and Sam start heading to the garage, three black duffel bags already packed and resting by the door which Dean had already expected. His brother never brought a case to Dean’s attention unless he was certain something was up, and by the time he came to that decision he’d already packed all the necessary items. “Cas! We got a case! Let’s go!” 

Cas appears a few seconds later, momentarily stepping into the war room with Jack in his arms. “A case?” The baby babbles in an attempt to converse with them, too, wide blue eyes roving the room as he waves a rattle around. 

The brothers come to a dead stop and both sigh, annoyed. “Right…” Dean huffs. Didn’t think of the kid

“The kid…” Sam adds in the same tone of voice, voicing Dean’s thoughts as they watch Jack slam the rattle against Cas’ chest with a bit more strength than was probably normal for a baby of his age. 

Cas takes it though, with a wince, and readjusts him in his arms. “I can stay and take care of him. I’m not sure he’s case material yet.” But even as the former Angel offers it, Den can tell his heart isn’t in it. Cas felt as stagnant as they did. He once lived and breathed  _ war.  _ Staying at home, playing Daddy, was fun. Nice, even, but he wanted the excitement- too. The thrill of stabbing sharp objects into demons. 

Dean runs his tongue over his teeth and sucks them, loudly. “Yeah, no,” he shakes his head and sighs, dipping his head forward to gaze at the floor before he pops it back up to look at Cas’ hopeful gaze and Sam’s worried, constipated face. Like they just expected him to have an answer. “We can take him with us. God knows we’ll need all the help we can get, and it’s not like he’ll be in immediate danger.” He shrugs. “You saw what he did when I had a gun at the cabin, the kid can handle himself. Teach ‘em young, right Sammy?” 

He grins and clasps a hand in his brother's shoulder, expecting to find the same excitement there but instead he was met with that damn constipated look again. “Dean, Demons. I don’t think-“ 

“Dean’s right,” Cas speaks over Sam, cutting him off. “Jack is powerful, and smart. I can assure you no harm will come to him in the presence of those demon’s.” 

Sam still didn’t look convinced. His brows furrow. “Guys, I'm still not sure a baby should be seeing that kind of thing,”

“Sammy,” Dean said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to his brother, “the kid charred his mom and sucked the juice from Cas’ Angel tank using a fucking bendy straw. Ganking a few demons won’t hurt him any.” 

“What about us? How will we hold a baby  _ and  _ fight?” 

“I have a solution for that!” Cas exclaims, and before either can ask what it is, Jack is deposited into Sam’s arms and Cas disappears from the room. 


	3. Grabby hands

“When you said you had a plan,” Dean grunts, the butt of his angel blade cracking the skull of the sulfur king who advanced him with way more cockiness than his novice-like fighting skills could back. It stuns him, and he stumbles back a few steps- right into Sam’s awaiting blade. “I didn’t think you meant  _ this,” _

Jack was strapped to Dean’s chest using a baby harness, his cheek pressed flush against Dean’s chest, the straps pulled so tight the baby wouldn’t be going anywhere even if Dean rode a freaking roller coaster that had an upside down loopty loop. 

It was originally agreed that Sam, being the tallest of them and the most out of reach, would wear Jack but upon strapping the baby in place, Jack seemed to have different ideas because he  _ scream _ with the conviction of a banshee and banged against Sam’s chest with red cheeks and  _ real _ tears until they took pity on him and unstrapped them. Sam had been crushed, of course, and Dean felt sorry for his brother but he didn’t know what he could say to lessen the sting. 

Cas was off the table, considering he’d be the most targeted given his angelic reputation, so that left Dean. Little old Dean, who was too dumb to come up with a valid excuse as to  _ why _ wearing a baby like a fucking back pack was a bad idea. Why  _ he _ couldn’t do it. 

“ _ You were fine when he was strapped to me,” _ Sam had said when Dean originally brought up his reservations, nursing his pride with a bottle of juice cradled in his palm. “ _ Man up and wear the damn thing, Dean. Nobody will look at you as any lesser of a man.”  _

Which, wrong. The moment he was spotted he was targeted. Demons could be  _ mean.  _ Ruthless as they taunted him. And words hurt, okay? They  _ really _ fucking hurt. 

“To your left!” Sam responded breathlessly, demon blood smeared across his face and down the front of his shirt. Dean ducked at the warning and swiveled his blade with skillful ease, embedding it in the Demon’s ribcage and getting hit in the arm with a spray of the hot blood. “And quit whining. We have more pressing things to focus on than your wounded ego,” 

Dean pouts, but a quick survey of the room confirmed Sam’s observation. They’d arrived into town a few hours back, and in the process of searching for anything out of place they accidentally stumbled across a place just  _ crawling _ with demons. Infested out the fucking ass- worse than cockroaches. Word apparently spread quickly, because the moment they found the demons, the demons found them, too, and they were surrounded before having a chance to  _ back _ out. 

“I guess you gotta point.” He relents, swiping the blade across the front of his jeans to help alleviate his fingers of the dripping, sticky textured blood. Bodies surround them in heaps, motionless and rotten. Dean doesn’t understand how humans don’t spot a demon immediately- they fucking reek of  _ death.  _

It’s so pungent his eyes sting. “Cas? You good?” He calls over his shoulder, a black eyed bitch backing him towards the corner of the room with three more flanking her. Dean eyes the blade in his hand, then momentarily looks over blondie's shoulder to see Sam in a similar predicament- a Girl Scout hopped up on demon-juice getting a little too close for comfort to Sam for Dean’s liking. 

“Not particularly,” a distant voice calls back, muffled from the curtain blocking the entrance between rooms. It was a  _ bar _ of all places, a fucking  _ bar.  _ Dean was sure he’d never be able to enter another bar without being reminded of this stench. “But I’m also alive, so I suppose that counts for something,” 

He can’t help but smirk at Cas’ response, pride briefly flaring in his chest because there was that dry sarcasm Dean loved. “You think we can-“ 

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Buffy the vampire slayer asks, blue eyes flickering black. “Jesus, no wonder everybody wants you dead. Five minutes in your presence and I’m conflicted between ripping your throat out with my teeth or killing myself.” 

Dean snorts, hand subtly moving to cup the back of Jack’s head when Buffy takes another step closer- high heeled toes brushing the tips of Dean’s boots. Not subtle enough, it appears, because her eyes catch the movement and she grins. “Didn’t think your kind was too big on suicide,” he says, teeth clenching as he grips his blade just a little bit tighter, anticipating her next move. 

He eyes her entourage, debating the likelihood of his survival if he just went for the kill. 

“And I didn’t think  _ your _ kind was too keen on babies,” she reaches a hand up, manicured fingernails painted a deep red, and goes to brush the curly wisps of blonde hair just  _ barely _ peeking over the edge of the harness backboard. Dean grinds his teeth so hard he can  _ feel _ his teeth cracking, anger a quickly budding presence bubbling within his veins. “I mean, a Winchester with a baby? What kind of delusional fantasy are you play-“ 

She’s cut off with a blade stabbing through her neck, her approaching hand falling limp to her side as her now lifeless body stumbles back a step before falling ungracefully to the ground. “You touch him,” Dean seethes, metallic blood dripping in crimson droplets from his fingers, blood splattered across his face and clinging like honey to his eyelashes, as he levels the surrounding demons with a glare, “and I’ll personally see to it each and every one of you feel  _ every  _ second of your death.” 

The threat, however convincing, wasn’t heeded because he’s suddenly surrounded. Three flank his right, with two approaching from his left and he doesn’t have any holy water on him or enough blades to properly defend himself, but he’s not going down without a fight. 

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers roughly in Jack’s ear, all breathy and panicked, his free hand still cupping the kids head through the harness. “Just close your eyes, alright kid? I promise I’ll get us out of this,” 

He can hear Sam yelling, the mocking, hollow sounds of demons laughing and flesh tearing as both Sam and Cas try to combat the sudden wave of demons, but they were in over their head. Dean  _ knew _ that. Could feel it. 

“Doing good, guys,” he yells, just as the first hand grabs him. He blindly swings his blade, which meets a solid wall of body, and he successfully pierces their flesh but there’s too many hands at once, too much movement. He punched and kicked, thrashing against the iron-like grips pulling him in each and every direction and despite trying his fucking  _ best,  _ he knows it won’t be enough. 

He can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, kid,” he whispers in Jack’s ear, eyes closing against the onslaught as fingers  _ rip  _ at his arms and tear at his clothing. And just when he can feel the world growing black as hope fades away, there’s suddenly a bright flash of light. 

“What the fuck was that!” Sam scream, panicked, and Dean blinks his eyes open just in time to see another beam of light shoot out, reminiscent to a blast of energy shooting from Iron-Man’s arc reactor(  _ Dean certainly didn’t watch a Marvel movie one lonely night)  _ and he doesn’t know what the fucks going on until he looks down at the bodies surrounding his feet. 

Eyes charred, smoking. “They’re being smited,” Dean says, and that words feel  _ so _ wrong on his tongue but he’s too fucking amped to care if he said it right because he’s turning wide, amaze filled eyes down to Jack. “Did you do that, kid? Did you just save my ass?” 

Jack responds with a happy babble, constricted hands slapping against Dean’s chest and for the first time since  _ ever _ meeting this kid, he feels warmth spread in his chest. 

“I’m happy for you, and all, but I could  _ really _ use some help,” Sam grunts, and Dean turns his attention from the smiling baby to find his brother pinned against the wall by a group of demons. 

“Come on, houdini,” Dean grunts, the tips of his boots nudging aside bodies to make a path towards his brother. “If you were going to perform a magic trick, right about now’s a good time.” 

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Jack lifts his little hand and closes his eyes. As if in sync with Dean lifting his blade to swing, the demons on Sam all freeze upright and Dean freezes. Flashes of light spill out of their eyes and mouths and they collapse to the ground. The demons on Cas follow suit, screaming as blinding light envelopes their faces and one by one collapse. The room goes silent, except for heavy breaths from the hunters.

Dean pauses and drops his arm and looks down at Jack, who coos up at him sleepily and starts to doze off.

Sam steps over the charred bodies and stumbles over to Dean, Cas does the same.

“Holy crap.” the younger Winchester gasps out.

“Seems like he’s already getting a hang of his powers.” Cas observes and he stands closer to Dean, peering down at the now sleeping child whose head is flopped slightly to the left.

The warmth of the other man’s body close to Deans is intoxicating. Vibrating against his skin is hushed pulses he found both soothing and comforting given how scraped-raw he feels after the fight. And in a sudden miscalculation of weakness, he leans into the warmth. Shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger twitching against pinky finger.

Silence inhabits the space around them for a beat, then another, Dean too content with the weight draped across his chest and Cas’ proximity to say anything and chance breaking the moment. 

“Alright, uh…” Sam clears his throat and wipes Ruby’s knife clean on his jacket. “Let’s get out of here before more demons sense us.”

Dean blinks out of his stupor and nods, “Yeah, good plan.” he hooks the angel blade through a belt loop on his jeans and the three men make their way back to the impala. Jack sleeps the entire drive back and Cas sits next to him, checking every so often but still being met with the same peaceful little face each time.

Dean cant help himself from looking back at them in the rearview once in a while. The sight of the former angel tending to the kid making sure he was covered by his little flannel blanket or putting his soother back in his mouth when it falls out tugged at his heart strings way more than he would like to admit out loud. Especially to Sam. Fucker wouldn’t let him live it down.

The kid, the idea of him and what his existence entailed, still spooked Dean. Left him on edge, anticipating what tomorrow may bring- what monsters may be dredged up given Jack’s power. They didn’t speak of it, of what just happened, of the power surge that was  _ sure _ to be felt. Of the lingering demons who escaped by the hair on their teeth from the angelic baby smiting them without a thought. Without  _ effort. _ It was dangerous, and he could  _ sense _ more was coming. More awaited them on the horizon. 

But here, with Cas’ face drained of any worry, a peace and serenity stifling aura filled the impala as he settled into his new purpose in life with his pinky finger delicately caressing Jack’s chubby cheek, it was all worth it. Would be  _ like way _ more than worth it. 

And with a soft sort of secretive grin, Dean inched his foot on the gas pedal and watched as the speedometer decreased by a few notches. What was the point of rushing home? They had nowhere important to be tonight and this, here, was something Dean wanted to relish in. 

____________________________________________________________________________

It’s 4 am when Dean blinks his eyes open. He has no idea why, but his internal clock is yelling  _ “Time to get up! Time to get up!” _

He groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side, his bare feet hitting the cold cement floor. He takes a moment with his eyes closed, gathering his brain and trying to remember which way is up before getting to his feet and shuffling to his bedroom door. He decides to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

As he’s walking down the hall, he passes Jack’s nursery and sees the door is ajar and a faint beam of yellow light shines over the floor. He softly pushes the door open and pops his head in.

He sees Castiel passed out in the lounge chair they dragged over from Dean’s entertainment room, his head rested back against the headrest. Jack was tucked into the crook of his elbow, snuggled up against his chest, and also passed out.

Dean crosses his arms, leans up against the door frame, and just stays there for a moment. The image in front of him is something he never thought he would ever see. One of the most important people in his life, his closest friend, with the responsibility of a very impressionable child and...he’s good at it. The kid’s still alive, and he hasn’t tried to kill any of them at least, so he could say it’s going very well. 

It was kind of ironic, seeing Cas- one of the most ferocious, powerful beings ever to be created, reduced to this. Soft, paternal, the same palm that has taken more than its fair share of life’s now gently resting on the padding of Jack’s stomach, each slow inhalation from the baby translating to a twitch in Cas’ pinky. It was fitting, nice. He  _ finally _ looked at peace. With himself, with the world, and it’s all Dean could have ever wanted. 

Retrieving the thin throw blanket hanging over the edge of Jack’s crib railing, Dean unfolds the scratchy material and with quiet footsteps echoing with attentive purpose, he drapes it over their bodies, slanting it at Cas’ shoulder so it cuts diagonally across his friends torso to dip down and across Jack’s small frame. He tucks it in, there, below the baby’s chin and lingers for the slightest second. Close, too close. 

But somehow, not close enough. 

Cas’ breath is soft, ghosting across Dean’s stubbled cheek and the man smells like baby lotion and coffee, a mixture Dean never thought to be so…  _ fitting.  _ He takes one last breath, holds it in his lungs, and slowly exhales it as he starts to leave the room.

“Dean?”

The hunter pauses at the soft voice. He turns back to see Cas lifting his head from it’s resting spot and rubbing an eye with his free hand.

“Shit sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Dean whispered back, grimacing.

Cas shook his head, “It’s alright. I should probably head to my own bed anyway.” He starts to slowly get up, slipping the blanket off them and attempting to get his arm underneath his other to cradle Jack.

Dean whispered urgently, “Cas, don’t-!”

As Cas stood, Jack began to fuss, his face scrunched up and suddenly this ear piercing cry erupted from him, startling Cas. “Oh no.”

With a roll of his eyes, Dean walks over to them. “Why did you- here, give him to me.” he sighed as Cas passed him over the hunter. He cradled Jack and started to bounce his knees like he did yesterday, careful shushes falling past his lips. 

Cas stood there and watched, embarrassed and disappointed. What a stupid thing to do! Of course he shouldn’t have moved! You never wake a sleeping baby. Thats rule #1 of child rearing. It said so in one the books he read. 

Despite the shame flowing through him, he can’t bring himself to leave. He knew he should go to bed, that Dean was far more than capable of caring for the baby and Cas was  _ tired.  _ But watching Dean interact with Jack, soft yet purposeful as he cradles the baby to his chest, awakens something within Cas. Something fierce and protective, the urge to  _ protect _ resurfacing with a vengeance he hasn’t felt since he saw… well, since the first time he ever laid eyes on Dean Winchester. 

As Dean walks himself in circles, whispering quietly in Jack’s ears- words Cas can’t hear with his sleep muffled ears, but sound suspicious of being a song, he realizes his presence is unneeded. However much he wishes to stay, to watch this side of Dean he very rarely let show, he shouldn’t. 

He turns to leave, making a quiet departure so as to not upset the baby, but the second his hand reaches for the door knob Jack  _ shrieks. _ His cry is piercing, startling Cas, and with a hammering heart he spins around to find Jack clawing his way up Dean’s shoulder, who looks equally as startled as Cas, the baby’s free hand reaching desperately for Cas. 

“I, uh,” Dean chuckles, shaking his head when Jack immediately settles down once Cas is within touching distance. “I don’t think he wants you to leave,” 

“Why?” Cas asks, confused, head tilting. “He has you. Isn’t that sufficient enough?” 

“Apparently not. Kid used my shoulder as a scratching board when you tried to leave,” Dean says, but it’s light, playful.  _ Knowing.  _ Cas is Jack’s comfort, his presence soothing, and although he refused to let the former Angel leave he also had a death grip on Dean’s wrinkled night shirt which meant he wasn’t going anywhere, either. 

“I don’t think I understand,” 

Dean rolls his eyes and walks over to the bed, sitting at the head with his back pressed against the headboard before he gestures for Cas to do the same. “There’s nothing to understand. He wants you, he wants me. Baby’s are weird.” He shrugs, just as mistified, and settles Jack so the baby is draped across his chest. “Might as well sit your bony ass down and get comfortable, cause I don’t think the kid is letting us go anywhere.” 

Baby’s  _ are  _ weird. The child rearing books never prepared him for this. They said as long as the baby was never left alone, he should be content. But when Cas doesn’t move to sit, just stands motionless by the door, Jack seems to sense his hesitation and he pulls his head up and cranes it to the side, pinning Cas with his blue eyes before reaching a hand out to him and closing it into a fist repeatedly. 

_ Grabby hands.  _

_ That _ Cas understands. He sheds his jacket, the one he’d stolen from Dean’s closet so many months ago but the hunter never requested back, and folds it on the edge of the bed. “Do you think he understands what he did earlier?” Cas asks, fidgeting at the side of the bed, attempting to start small conversation to build up the courage to finally climb onto the bed. 

“Jesus, Cas-“ Dean huffs. “Could we maybe not talk about that right now? Shits too heavy for bedroom talk.” 

“Bed-room talk?” Cas asks, separating both words like they were foreign on his tongue. 

Dean waves a frantic hand around them, trying to convey something in the gesture that Cas was clearly missing. The hunter sighs. “Bedroom talk. Means no talking about demons, angels, God or any of that shit. This is a sacred place.” 

“I don’t understand the relevance of the bedroom, Dean,” Cas begins, and Dean can see the gears turning as the former Angel works himself up. “And why we can’t discuss wh-“

He’s cut off, however, sentence turning to ash on his tongue when Dean reaches out and grabs his wrist. “Sit down,” 

It wasn’t a command. It was too soft to be a command, too tired, but Cas listens to it nonetheless- the words posed as a suggestion but weighted by something… something he couldn’t understand, and he sits. 

“There you go,” Dean beams, proud at the progression. “See, was that so hard?” 

Cas grumbles. He hates when Dean gets like this, all stupidly cocky and self-satisfied. But he settles back against the headboard, unknowingly mirroring Dean’s exact pose with his ankles crossed and arms folded loosely across their torsos. 

He wants to say something, anything. The silence feels heavy but any and all conversation he may breach would ruin Deans, “Sanctity,” and Cas didn’t want to upset the man. He’s already made mental notes of Dean’s unofficial rules. 

So there they sit, hunter and former Angel, shoulder to shoulder with the only common thing between them, a small, nephilim child who, in the midst of Cas’ racing thoughts, has reached out in his sleep to rest stubby fingers on Castiel’s forearm. And he decides then, in the dark, that maybe the silence wasn’t so bad.

________

In the early hours of dawn, Sam comes trudging through the bunker door after his daily run. He swallows down the rest of his water in his reusable bottle as he walks down the stairs and heads to the kitchen to refill it. Once done so, he decides to head to the shower room. He passes Dean’s room and Jack’s room but stops dead and back tracks, stopping at the door to the nursery.

A grin plays over his lips when he sees Dean and Cas fast asleep on either side of the bed, on top of the sheets, and Jack flat out on his back in between them. Dean was on his side facing the other two bodies, and his hand was resting on Jack’s belly, the arm beneath his head extended out, hand open, reaching for something. 

Cas’ sleep disheveled hair was brushing the tips of said fingers. 

The former Angel was mimicking Dean’s position, facing both Dean and Jack, but he was curled forward, almost protectively, body subconsciously shielding the other two occupants. Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes at this, because even in his sleep Cas was still trying so damn hard to be the protector. Worthy of the title of one of Heaven’s mightiest warriors.

Here, though, it was different. Muted by the pale white light filtering through the cracked door, flooding their darkened room and breathing life in a moment Sam had no right witnessing. Here, Cas looked happy. Dean, too. Neither were weighted down with the worries of the world, with the unrealistic roles bestowed upon them by negligent, ignorant fathers. 

And with one quick photo snapped on his phone, with the shutter muted, he was closing the door and retreating down the hallway to take his well deserved shower. 

His thighs ached, and his feet were sore from breaking in a new pair of sneakers, but it was nothing the hot water couldn’t fix. It was only when he felt the water turn luke warm, steam permeating the air, that he finally decided to get out- every knot in his body successfully loosened. 

He got dressed, sloppily brushed his teeth and on his way back into the kitchen to search for some type of sustenance, which they were low on and it was funny because they’d spent all day shopping yesterday for Jack yet never paused to consider their own basic needs, he decided to peak in the nursery to check on the gag-worthy trio. 

Only, the nursery door was already opened and Sam  _ swore _ he closed it. Flattening against the wall, with his heartbeat echoing loud in his ears, Sam crept down the hallway- any form of defense locked away in his room. He didn’t know what to expect, what could possibly get through the heavily warded walls, but he was counting on his quick reflexes to at least back him up. 

Tipping his head in the room, barely enough to see the foot of the bed, Sam was greeted with silence. A shuffled step forward revealed Dean, a few inches closer to the center of the bed than he’d been earlier, and Cas. Both still sleeping, lost to the world humming on around them, Cas now on his back snoring softly with Dean curled towards him. But the absence of the third form was glaringly obvious. 

Sam’s heart seized. “Dean, Cas, the baby’s gone,” fear uncoiled in his stomach, increasing his heart rate and strangling him with, “ _ what if’s,”  _ as he kicked the side of the bed to rattle the wooden frame. When that didn’t rouse them, he leaned over Cas’ body to grab hold of Dean’s shoulder, then followed suit and grabbed Cas’, and gave a  _ violent _ shake. “Wake the fuck up! Jack’s gone.” 


	4. Angel juice is amping him up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a little look of soft!Daddy Dean and let me tell you, that scene was one of my most favorite that we’ve wrote! 🥰
> 
> Thank you ALL for the kind comments you’ve left on our work!! We truly appreciate it and I’m so glad you all get a little peak at our own little baby Jack. We were robbed, and this just seemed so necessary. I hope you continue enjoying! ❤️❤️

“How the  _ hell  _ do you lose a kid?” Sam argues. Him and Dean are anxiously rushing through the hallways of the bunker, slamming every door open and looking in every room and closet they pass. Jack couldn’t have gone far. He was 2 days old and couldn’t even hold his own head up, let alone walk off. 

Cas lags behind them, shoulders slumped. He promised Kelly he would never let her son out of his sight. That he would protect him no matter what. He’s now broken that promise and failed to do the one thing he was meant to do. His mind was racking outcome after outcome. Was he hurt? Did he somehow get out of the bunker? What if they never find him?

“Cas!”

The former angel was brought back to reality when Dean snapped his finger in front of his face. The hunters' brows were knitted together in confusion, “You with us?”

Cas swallowed and nodded, “Y-yes. Sorry.”

Dean was suspicious of his former feathered friend, but he didn’t push further. They had bigger problems. “He was in the kitchen, but not anymore.”

“Was?”

Sam held his hand up and in the grasp of his index finger and thumb was a...coco puff? “He got into the cereal.”

“ _ My cereal! _ ” Dean sneered. “He got his dirty, grubby hands in the only box! Little twerp.” the hunter crossed his arms and pouted. Sam looked at him judgingly and tossed the crumb he held into the trash just inside the kitchen door.

“Alright. Where did he go from there?” Cas asked.

“There’s a trail of cereal heading out the door towards storage. He might be there.” the younger Winchester explained, and the three of them headed that way.

They found three books open on the ground that had fallen from the bottom shelf of a shelving unit that held a backlog of lore books that didn’t fit in the library. They searched the room for more clues.

“He went this way.” Cas found another fallen book in the back doorway of the storage room that led into the hallway.

As the three of them walked down the hallway, Cas prayed to...whoever that they would find him soon. He didn’t know what he would do with himself if they didn’t.

“Found him!” came Sam’s voice, monotone and mildly annoyed.

“No, give me that!” Dean voiced this time.

Cas looked into Dean’s bedroom and saw him grab a record out of Jack’s hand- the once stubby, short fingers now thinner and longer, reaching with much more eye-hand coordination than he harbored yesterday as he tried prying the record from Dean’s hands, successfully playing tug-of-war with the hunter. 

In place of short, bowed legs were now long, thin sticks poking out the bottom of the footless pajamas they’d put him in last night, the buttons around his chest popping and the cuff of the bottoms hugging just below his knees. He was more expressive now, too, with furrowed brows and a Dean worthy glare marring his no-longer-baby features. In just a night he’d matured, chubby cheeks less rounded, chin and jaw just the slightest more pronounced, with the once wispy hair now sat in curly, blonde tufts on top of his shaking head. 

“Agh!” Jack yelled, baring yet another proof of his rapid aging as two white, pearly teeth peeking from pink gums were revealed as he yelled profusely at Dean. 

He had to be over a year, now. At  _ least  _ a year older than what he’d been the last time Cas had seen him. 

The hunter looked both exasperated and mildly entertained as he danced around the toddler with careful steps and put the record far out of his reach. “Angel juice is amping him up,” Dean complained, voice gruff and just the tiny bit breathless as he watched Jack in wonder. “We wake up tomorrow and he’s going to be a whole ass adult- not it on teaching him how to wipe his own ass.” 

“Dean!” Sam scolds, bending down to scoop the pouty lipped toddler up in his arms. “This isn’t funny. We need to figure out how quickly his age is accelerating so we can try and get ahead of it.” 

“Sam’s right,” Cas said, hovering nearest to the youngest hunter just out of habit of being close to Jack, having to refuse the urge to take the baby from Sam’s arms and never let go. It was a relief to see him safe and relatively unharmed. “As he grows, his powers will also grow. Today he was teleporting. Tomorrow he could throw us in an alternate universe. We need to start preparing for a toddler with-“ 

“Houdini powers, got it.” the older hunter nods.

“And longer limbs.” Sam adds, referring to the too tight clothing. Dean looks up to the ceiling and sighs.

“Let’s go shopping then…” he says with a groan. “Not like we’re millionaires or anything.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Cas sits Jack into a high chair at the kitchen table and clicks him in. A plate of plain spaghetti, grapes and crackers is placed in front of him and a sippy cup filled with milk. The former angel sits down next to him. “Alright, dinner time. Eat up.”

It’s only been 6 hours since they found Jack in Dean’s room and he’s already exhausted. After they got back from the store, Sam grabbed Jack and took him to his nursery so Dean and Cas could put stuff away.

_ The eldest hunter awkwardly hovered in the entrance of the kitchen, watching as Cas bustled around and put the food away, offering no help and just his company. Cas could sense his presence, his hesitation, and he knew Dean had something to say, to likely address, but he wasn’t willing to push him. Dean needed time, and Cas had more than enough to spare.  _

_ It was about 10 minutes later, with crinkled bags the only thing to break the silence, that Cas finally finished putting everything away and when he turned around, expecting to find Dean still standing there, he was met with an empty kitchen.  _

_ “CAS!” _

_ Sam’s voice came echoing down the hall. It sounded panicked. His heart now racing, Castiel ran out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards Jack’s room. He stopped in the doorway, catching the frame in a tight grip, “What? What happened?” _

_ Sam stood bent over in the middle of the room. Jack was stood up in front of his legs, his little hands gripping onto Sam’s large index fingers, wobbling back and forth trying to balance on his little feet. He would roll forward onto his toes and then try to counteract the momentum by leaving back and rolling onto his heels. Sam kept his hands steady, holding Jack’s arms up to keep him standing straight. _

_ “He’s been pulling himself up against the bed so I grabbed his hands. Look at this!” he glanced up at Cas with the biggest smile on his face. _

_ Jack spotted Cas and shrieked happily, instantly trying to get to him. He stomped his feet a couple times before stepping forward once, then twice. He kept stepping towards Cas until Sam carefully let Jack let go of his fingers. _

_ Jack was now walking on his own, taking one wobbly step after another wobbly step. Cas’ face lit up and he kneeled down to his height, holding out his arms to invite him in. _

_ Jack squealed again, picking up the pace and he stumbled forward just in time to hit Cas’ chest. The former angel wrapped his arms around the toddler and chuckled. “You did it, Jack!” _

_ Sam stood up straight and smiled. “Now we have a handful on our hands. He’s mobile.”  _

_ Dean came to investigate all the commotion, Jack’s eyes immediately lighting up the second the eldest hunter came into view and he was off again- taking stumbled yet sure steps as he practically ran to Dean. Shocked by the sudden progression, given Jack completely skipped over the crawling stage, he had enough time to drop to a crouch and open his arms before a solid toddler body was slamming into him. _

_ He was knocked back, a little off balance, but he rocked into the hit and settled back on his haunches and scooped the squealing toddler up in his arms. “Look at you!” he exclaimed, unfurling from his crouch. The open excitement on Dean’s face was something Cas has never seen before, something that made him breathless and had his heart hurt. “Our own little flash!” _

_ After that, they couldn’t get Jack to stay still. Once he found out he could move on his own, without the assistance of the three adults, he took his independence and just zoomed. Baby proofing the bunker was going to be a bitch, and Dean wasn’t looking forward to it.  _

Now, Dean is in his  _ ‘Dean Cave’ _ as he likes to call it, Sam is researching in the library, and Cas is on dinner duty, somehow managing to wrangle Jack long enough to strap him into his high chair.  _ ‘Watch him eat everything.’  _ Dean said.  _ ‘And no matter what he does, no cookies! They’re mine.’ _

So Cas sat there, his chin resting in his hand as he watched Jack pick up a halved grape and palm it into his little mouth, flattening his hand out on his face. He chewed loudly, smacking his lips as he reached for a noodle.

Cas fought to keep his eyes open. The excitement from the search earlier, and not getting the greatest sleep the night before really took a toll on him. As he sat there, his elbow slid slowly on the table top and his body started to slouch more and more, the energy to keep him awake and upright diminishing quickly.

He almost smacked his forehead on the table when he was jolted awake by Jack choking on a noodle and coughing it up. Cas scrunched up his nose in disgust and grabbed the knife that he had with him and cut the noodles into smaller pieces.

When Jack finally ate all his dinner, Cas placed the used dishes into the sink. Just as he was about to turn back to Jack and get him out of his high chair, he opened a cupboard and grabbed one of Dean’s sacred cookies. An oreo.

Cas unclipped Jack, lifted him up and to the floor. He squatted down in front of him. “Don’t tell Dean, okay?” He fished the cookie out of his pocket and held it up to Jack who immediately took it and stuffed it in his mouth. Crumbs tumbled down his little flannel shirt to the floor as he chewed obnoxiously.

The former angel smiled at the toddler as he ate. It made him a little emotional to think, but he could already see Kelly in him. His nose and mouth were hers. His eyes were celestial for sure, the sky blue in them practically glowing. He caresses his little cheek with the pad of his thumb as tears sting his eyes.  _ She loved you so much _

_____________

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d spent cooped up in his cave, scrolling mindlessly on his laptop as he shifted between three different tabs, but he decided enough was enough when his bleary eyes couldn’t focus on a single word. Pressing the heel of his palm into his eye as he submerged himself into the brightly lit corridor, Dean stumbled blindly for a second or two as his sensitive eyes adjusted to the lights. 

Then, he just let his stomach do the guiding. He could smell the faint aroma of tomatoes and garlic, wafting through the bunker and solidifying the illusion of  _ home _ . Walking into the kitchen, he expected to see Cas and Jack sitting at the table, eating, however that was not the case. 

“Is that an Oreo!” He exclaimed, doing a one-foot in the air hop as he swiveled his boot in the opposite direction after narrowly barreling right into Cas and the baby. He clutched at his chest, always a flair for the dramatic. “Can a man not have  _ one _ sacred thing in his own home? First my coco puffs, then my records and now…  _ this!”  _

Cas rolls his eyes and subtly swipes at his eyes as he rises from his crouch, erasing the proof of his moment of weakness. “It’s one cookie, Dean. Surely one cookie doesn’t matter.” 

Dean shakes his head and jabs a finger at his friend. “Not the point.” Then he takes the adult-route and goes for silently brooding as he dishes himself up an obscene amount of spaghetti. Truth of the matter is, he didn’t mind it too much that his cookie stash was raided. It did kind of sting, a little, that he missed out on yet another one of Jack’s firsts. He wanted to be the one to corrupt him with sugar. 

Cas has returned to his crouch position with Jack, the toddler sporting a grimy chocolate ring around his mouth. “I apologize for taking your cookie,” Cas says after a beat, not making eye contact, and Dean huffs out his annoyance. 

“Take all the damn cookies if you want,” Dean mumbles around a mouthful of spaghetti, disappointment settling in his belly when he realizes it’s just all noodles- no meat. “But ice cream? That one's mine. I’m going to make the kid the  _ biggest _ ice cream sundae, then send him off to Sam’s room.” 

The joys of kids were their reaction to sugar. Too much, and they fall to a sugar coma. The perfect amount? It’s like winding up a toy and just letting it go. Ben had been like a moose in a China shop at his birthday party after eating three slices of cake and God knows how many bags of cotton candy. 

It was the simpler, naturally chaotic things in life that Dean enjoyed. 

Cas turns up to look at him, then, a soft smile curving his lips. “Deal.” 

Dean doesn’t know how he does it, how even as a human his gaze is so… prying. Intrusive. It’s like he  _ knows _ what he’s thinking all the time and it makes him a little unsettled, but mostly warm. The thought of being seen without having to verbally address anything? Pretty nifty to a guy who hated talking about feelings. Cas just, he gets it. Understands Dean isn’t upset about the cookie being taken, but that he wasn’t the one who got to give it away. 

And with that thought, came a reminder of this morning and how Sam found them. “So,” Dean began, but he didn’t know how to address it. How to articulate his thoughts into words when he’s thinking  _ so _ much. 

_ Sorry for creeping on you while we were both unconscious,  _ seemed too casual for even Dean, but the idea of jumping head first into it felt like the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. 

“So?” Cas promoted, even expectant, ever patient. 

Dean licks a smudge of tomato sauce off his lower lip and sighs, setting his plate down on the tray of Jack’s high chair just so he has an excuse to look away. To focus on anything but Cas’ face. “About this morning-“ 

“That was quite terrifying, but I believe Sam and I have figured out a way to prevent that from happening again. He found a sigil that prevents teleportation.” 

Dean huffs out a laugh. So intuitive, yet somehow so clueless. “Yeah, Cas, not what I meant,” approaching a topic like this, no matter the depth of meaning behind it or the lack of said meaning, was never easy. Especially considering the amount of baggage that actually hung on to Dean’s words as he finally blurted- “I’m sorry for passing out last night. I didn’t mean to and I  _ definitely  _ didn’t mean to like, get all girly and almost, y’know, get up close to you but shit happens. There wasn’t a blanket, we were both cold-“ he trails off with a shrug, not entirely sure where he was taking that entire excuse train but apparently it was docking at the station and no passengers were boarding. 

He’s played it over in his mind a thousand times today. A way to approach it without being too casual or too dismissive. But every single solution he came up with, was always shit. Almost as shit as his ability to formulate excuses, apparently. He thought of using Jack as an excuse, but the baby didn’t make them get on that bed, and he  _ certainly  _ didn’t make them fall to sleep together. They did that on their own. Team free will, and all. 

“Dean, it's fine. I’ve learned humans are drawn to warmth and you were sleeping. It hardly means anything,” and there goes his stupidly helpful Angel, sweeping things under the rug for Dean’s benefit even if it most definitely needs to be addressed. 

Dean licks over his suddenly too-dry lips and nods his agreement. “Yeah- yes, exactly. We were unconscious.” 

Cas’ eyes follow the trek of his tongue, traces it’s passage across Dean’s lips with a careful attentiveness, and when the hunter slams his lips shut the former Angel raises his gaze to find Dean’s green eyes. “It doesn’t have to happen again,”  _ but it can.  _

Dean’s breathes are ragged at this point and it feels hot- is it hot? Maybe Sammy cranked up the heater. “But, I mean, Jack enjoyed it. So maybe we could… I don’t know, help him out? Together? When he’s having a bad night?” 

_ Oh fuck me.  _ Dean didn’t know what the fuck that was but using the baby as a reason to saddle up close to Cas was fucking pathetic. Cas, however, doesn’t seem to mind because he’s eagerly nodding his approval. “He did have an adequate amount of sleep and didn’t wake once,” 

Okay, nope, definitely hot. Breathing’s become a bit more difficult, too, and Dean tries to school his reaction even as he feels his face filter through multiple different emotions before he settles on thoughtfulness. “He  _ did _ have a major growing spurt. Maybe that conn-“ 

“I smell food,” Sam’s rumbling voice echoes off the barren kitchen, and Dean scrambled back a foot just as his brother rounded the corner into the kitchen. He raises his eyebrows at Dean and Cas, then turns a big grin on Jack. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite neph- oh god, please tell me that isn’t poop. You guys didn’t let him eat poop, right?” 

The moment shattered, the excuses laid to rest, Dean cups his brother upside the back of his head as he passes. “It’s an Oreo cookie, you dipshit.” 

Cas lifts Jack up and sits him on his hip. As he does so, Jack yawns, squeezing his eyes shut and making a high pitched  _ ‘Ahhh…’ _ sound. “I’m gonna go put him down for his nap.” he slips his shirt sleeve over his hand and wipes the oreo crumbs off Jack’s face and Jack whines and slaps his hand away in frustration.

“Alright, night little man!” Dean does a small wave with just bending his fingers and Sam takes Jack’s little hand and softly shakes it.

As Cas turns to the door, he meets Dean’s eyes again and gives him a  _ ‘we’ll talk more later’  _ look before letting Jack rest his head on his shoulder and he walks out.


End file.
